


Newfound Hunger

by stuck_as_sarah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Demon Dean Winchester, First Time, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:46:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuck_as_sarah/pseuds/stuck_as_sarah





	Newfound Hunger

The bunker felt wrong and disturbingly quiet without Dean, his usual quips, light chuckles at his own jokes, his warm smile at Sam when he rolled his eyes as expected. Sam sat by the long table in one of the wooden chairs, having his laptop in front of him yet not doing anything on it, just staring around it, the edges of everything blurring. He felt dizzy and his throat burned. It hadn't been long after the failed attempt to make a deal with Crowley and he had went to see Dean, his body, thought about laying next to him for a moment, knew how fucked up it felt, but had an urge to do it anyway. All that was left was the slight dip in the mattress and Sam hardly knew what to do with himself. He sat where Dean was, used to be, and started to lay back, relaxing into the bed, only lifting himself to finish off the glass of whiskey he'd brought in just to give it a constant refill. He'd stared up at the ceiling, unable to move or think, not sure where to go, what the next step to take would even be.  


The only thing he could think to do was wobble to where he used to sit and research, at least go through the motions even if he just stared at the spinning blur of the room through half lidded eyes and budding tears. Sam sighed after a moment, realizing he'd started to stare at the entrance to the bunker, the long descending stairs imagining Dean walking down them, seeing the small smirk he'd seen for the last time on his bloodied face. He took down the last burn of what was left in his glass, bringing the bottle he'd finished more than half of already along with the empty glass into Dean's room. Sam laid back where the dip was starting to disappear and put the bottle in reach on the floor. Although he knew all he'd drank would come back to him, but in the moment lying there he was grateful, he would have just stared at the walls if he wasn't so drunk and instead ended up passing right out.  


It felt as though his eyes were trying to peel apart when he was starting to awake, remembering the previous events and needing to open his eyes, know it wasn't a dream and feel the bottle next to him. Feel the only small comfort he felt he'd have, giving help to a quicker dive into unconsciousness, before he'd even started to open his eyes, stuck together from what must have been him sobbing in his sleep. Another comfort of the booze, a dark empty sleep. If he'd dreamed at all he was unaware and didn't care, just stretch a hand out the short distance to where he'd set the bottle. Sam's hand fumbled in air till he convinced himself that was where he'd put it and forced his eyes open. His eyes started from his hand, the empty space the bottle should have been in, then slowly dragged up to find the chair across from Dean's bed occupied. He kept his glare on the dark figure of Dean. He seemed to tower over him as he stood to poor the bottle he was taking swigs out of to fill the glass he'd questioned abandoning last night still sitting on the nightstand.  


Sam didn't talk, didn't imagine he could with the feel of his throat, like it was closing in on him with each attempt at swallowing, no saliva to ease the way, his tongue thick and dry almost like it was choking him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed to the floor, quickly downing what was poured for him before chancing a look to Dean. He'd swallowed, his throat still scratchy and didn't dare start asking any of the things he felt should. He was afraid what Dean could say, this feeling coming from him that felt abnormal in every way. With the whiskey already buzzing through him he'd chanced standing, taking a step towards Dean. He judged the empty expression at his movements and shook his head, croaking out a quiet, “What-” before clearing his throat. He reached a hand up to land on Dean's cheek, spattered with freckles, his face clean as if the previous day was a dream, like Dean was here because he'd heard him sobbing and was going to hold him like when they were kids and he'd have a nightmare, hold him and rock him back and forth telling him it was okay, that it wasn't real. Dean saying he wouldn't let any of that happen to him as he choked through each sob to tell of the vivid dream he'd had.  


Dean's expression hadn't changed, only looked slightly questioning, and Sam let his hand fall to his side. He reach his hand out, brushing along Dean's knuckles to grab the bottle from his grasp and took a long gulp that felt as if it warmed every part of his body. Sam set the bottle on the nightstand, it almost empty now with a few swigs left sloshing at the bottom and he'd made a mental note to get more booze, knowing the pack of beer in the fridge being all that they had. They. Had Sam thought it without Dean in front of him he'd be gripping the top of the bottle in a desperate anger instead of confused. “Sam...?” Dean said, implied questions pointed to him with just the tone of his name on Dean's lips. Sam could already feel tears falling and heating up his face when he looked up at him, hoping he wouldn't have to attempt speaking, that his eyes would relay that he couldn't respond, that he was just confused. He gave a pathetic chuckle, that came out choked and dry, and turned away to take down the lasts of the bottle, returning it to the stand once emptied. Sam didn't think when he turned back to Dean, didn't question it when he pushed up into Dean's space, putting his face into his shirt and holding the back of Dean's head, cradled in both hands as he let out quiet sobs and whimpers.  


“Dean, what happened? Where did you-” Sam stopped to pull back, leaving both hands gripping onto his brother's shoulders tighter as he heard pulsing through his ears, as if he could distinctly hear and feel his heart pumping blood through his body, but when he looked back at Dean his confused glare turned feral as his eyes drifted to Dean's to his neck. He felt hot all over, as if his own blood was heating up to a boil. The longer he stared at Dean's neck, detecting each beat, the more he felt this hunger inside him that felt like he hadn't had in so long, always able to keep it under when needed, but he felt out of control now, he could hardly recognize what it was. His usual want for Dean could always be easily died down and controlled, left in the comforts of his own mind to scrape through whenever he felt the desire to, so it couldn't be that, but he realized, with each beat, that the hunger he felt now wasn't just for Dean, but it was for his blood. The last time he felt like this he was staring at Ruby's knife dripping demon blood, he'd only felt it when an injured demon was bleeding in front of him. A _demon_.  


“ _Dean_ ,” Sam said sternly, backing away from him as if in terror, moving around the side of the bed to a nearby wall, putting distance between them both which Dean quickly took away as he responded. “Glad I didn't have to tell you myself Sammy. Was debating just flashing my new shades,” Dean gave a dark chuckle, that Sam felt wasn't the old laughs and smiles he'd give at his own jokes, yet still underlying there somewhere. Sam relaxed his tense shoulders for a moment at that thought, his gaze turning less from horror, at his own hunger and this new version of his brother, and to more confusion, obvious realization and relief. “Guess you might as well see 'em, get used to it.” Another small laugh came from Dean, leaving a grin as he flashed his eyes from green to black taking over. Sam felt he should have been more responsive, maybe should have gave a gasp, but looking at Dean, even his dark eyes flickering back and judging his expression, all he could think about was the hunger still burning through him, the steady pulse of Dean's blood pumping through him being all he could hear.  


“Ahh, I see Sammy. That ol' addiction of yours coming to bite you in the ass. I should've guessed,” Dean said, with a smirk on his face, feigning innocent. Sam returned with an angry glare, knowing he didn't hide his want with Dean's grin stretching across his face. “Oh this'll be fun, can't really control that hunger when you're around me all the time,” Dean stepped into his space, Sam felt as though even with his height Dean was the one looking down on him, the one towering over him. “And we both know I'm not going anywhere.” Sam held back a scoff, held back how he felt he should turn, walk away from his brother, put the distance back between them, but held put, knowing he didn't really want to move, it just felt he _should_ move. Felt he _shouldn't_ feel this want for Dean being egged on by his new found hunger for him. For his blood. Burning along with the hunger he always hid for him right behind it. Sam dug through the thoughts he kept inside this tightly locked box in his head, opening it wide to put in new images of throwing Dean around and against the wall, knowing he was more than strong enough to stop him, fling him across the room, yet letting him knowing what Sam was doing. Sam's gaze lowered down to Dean's belt as his thoughts took over. He hoped for a moment, with what felt like his last sane thought, that Dean didn't notice although he knew of course he would, and he saw Ruby's knife where he thought it'd be tucked inside his jeans, peeking just slightly out from the part in his shirt that showed off his stomach and the line of his underwear with the way Dean stood tall, his back straight with his confident stance only leaning into Sam's space slightly bring his presence along with him.  


Sam was hyper-aware of how close Dean was, could still hear his blood pumping in his ears, a steady rhythm that pushed him over a cliff more than comforting him. He was aware how easy he could slip that blade from Dean's pants, letting his knuckles brush along Dean's stomach, moving slowly, knowing Dean would tell from his heated glare of eye contact as he did so what he was going to do. He felt even now all his thoughts were clear on his face and they went through him while Dean watched him, felt like Dean was thinking the same things. Sam could so easily push lightly on the blade causing a small nick on Dean's neck where he could drink from him, knowing Dean would just push him farther and cradle him as he did so. Sam wanted that, wanted not only his blood running through him the power of it pumping inside him, but wanted the comfort of Dean that he wouldn't usually get giving in to his addiction. He wanted to drown in it alongside Dean. “And you know Sammy,” Dean purred at him, and when Sam looked back up to Dean he felt that Dean was close enough that he could feel his breathe against him, practically feel the heat radiating from his body, almost pulsating with the pump of blood, “the way I am, I don't have guilt anymore, no more inhibitions holding me back. Still have all my thoughts, I know it all Sam. No more hiding from it.”  


Sam felt ashamed when Dean's eyes flicked black, almost unconsciously he thought, as Dean's eyes went to Sam's lips and dragged back up as they flipped back and Sam felt like a dam was breaking inside him. Even with his black eyes, Sam shook off the thought of _especially_ with the black eyes, Sam was so turned on, could feel his cock twitching with interest at Dean's hungry glare and the slow swipe of Dean's tongue over his fat bottom lip. Dean's lip quirked up noticing Sam's gaze following his motions and pulled his lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it before giving a hard bite. Dean grinned at Sam's pupils growing and his mouth falling open and Dean felt blood in his mouth, he could feel a drop forming on his lip enough to fall down his chin, cool drip down his stubble, his blood going down his neck in a clean line. Dean noticed Sam biting his own lip, the obvious hunger in his eyes despite his restraint. He tried not to roll his eyes at the obvious, and slightly annoying, humanity in Sam, and knew one last push and he'd get what he wants, what _Sam_ wants, even what his old self tried, very pathetically, not to want. Sam's lips against his skin. He could think about everything now without guilt, he could dig through all his previous thoughts and memories and laugh at his control and hate for himself, the guilt he'd felt getting hard at motions Sam made, the things he did, that was so obviously made for him, to _tempt_ him, fulfilling exactly its purpose. And he could only laugh at how stupid he was before, it was all obvious now without the, what felt like absurd, restraint. Dean gave that one last push, that felt so easy with just one small sentence, he laughed a bit as he said it with a smirk, “You gonna clean me up Sammy?”


End file.
